


joke me something awful

by QuickLikeLight



Series: Halestead [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Halestead, M/M, competitive handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: “I came here to win, Stilinski,” Isaac grinds out through harsh, panted breaths.





	

“I came here to win, Stilinski,” Isaac grinds out through harsh, panted breaths. Stiles shakes his head, bucking into Isaac’s fist with slow, steady strokes while he pulls hard and fast at Isaac’s cock.

“No way. There is no way you’re winning. I’m -” a twist of Isaac’s wrist has him gasping, shuddering with want, but he grits his teeth through it and pushes on, “-I’m totally winning.”

“You’re going down,” Isaac argues, and then huffs a laugh immediately after, stomach muscles rippling with the tension between them. “Or, you will be, after I win this thing.”

“Oh, that was awful.” Stiles stops jacking him off long enough to catch his breath, stilling his hips against Isaac’s hold. “That was terrible. You. I think you’ve killed it.”

“Doesn’t seem killed to me,” Isaac teases, toying with Stiles’ balls almost casually. He sinks back against the arm of the couch, spreading out his legs and fitting his broad back into the corner like he’s getting ready to watch a movie or something, looking around for the popcorn bowl.

Like he hadn’t just been getting basically the best handjob of his life.

“Hey, we’re not like, done here.” Stiles bristles at the idea that Isaac’s got to be reminded of that fact, but then very few people can manage the intense focus Stiles Stilinski maintains in the bedroom.

Er. Couch-room. Whatever.

“You’re the one who gave up,” Isaac shrugs, and oh. Oh no. No no, that is not how this is going down. Stiles swings one leg over Isaac’s lap, grateful he decided to ditch the basketball shorts early, and grinds hard and heavy down against him, skin on skin.

“Gave up? Nah. Just getting started,” he says as he rolls his hips, rutting their cocks together. Isaac laughs as he arches up into Stiles’ body, biting his bottom lip in that teasing, coquettish way he gets when he wants Stiles riled up.

“Maybe you could get started a little quicker next time. I’m starting to chafe.”

Stiles can practically feel his eyes bugging out, jaw dropping open as Isaac thrusts up against him, lazy as can be.

“Well, maybe if somebody had replaced the lube like he was supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this problem,” Stiles bites out, face just bare inches from Isaac’s.

They don’t kiss. That isn’t a thing they do. They snipe at one another, call each other names, trade sloppy blowjobs after hours of Halo 4 and cold pizza. But it’s confusing, when Isaac’s licking his lips, watching Stiles’ own as they move together, bodies pressed so close in something that feels intimate.

They don’t kiss, until they sort of do. Isaac’s hands are in his hair, pulling him down and in, mouth biting at his mouth. Isaac’s tongue swipes in hot and fast, pulling the air from his lungs and a groan from his throat.

“What the…” Stiles breaks away, dazed. His head spins, heat filling his groin as Isaac rocks up harder, determined glint in his eye. “Isaac -!”

This time when Isaac rushes up to kiss him, he’s less taken aback, but still nowhere near prepared. The perfect curve of that generous mouth smiles against his own and Isaac reaches down and strokes his cock, hard and fast and just the way he likes it, until he’s spilling over them with a grunt. Isaac’s hand gentles over his flesh, wringing every bit of pleasure from him, until all he can do is press their foreheads together, lips a breath apart.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting his head loll sideways.

“That was the terms, yeah?” Isaac grins, evil and adorable. “Winners gets whatever they want?”

“Sure,” Stiles nods, still half out of his head with pleasure. “Whatever. Yeah, bring it on. Whatdya want big guy?”

Isaac stares at him a moment, the best he can with Stiles’ cheek resting just over his shoulder. His cheeks flush in a way that Stiles would almost call pretty, if he hadn’t seen Isaac kick Matt Daehler’s ass at Jungle three hours ago. As it is, he’ll call it….

Very attractive.

“I want to kiss you again.”

“S’that all?” Stiles asks, eyes glued to the pink pout of Isaac’s lips, the soft, wide-eyed expression on his face, almost innocent -

“Yeah. While you ride my dick into next week,” he finishes, grinning.

Came to win, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


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